


Heaven is Overrated

by beansprean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, DROPS OF JUPITER, Hipster Dean, Human Lessons, M/M, Music, Ramble on, Songfic, au where cas gets to stay because shut up, dean is a dinosaur, he is though, hell yeah, led zepplin, train, travelling riverside blues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beansprean/pseuds/beansprean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has weird taste in music, despite Dean's attempts at education.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sam, Dean and Cas's opinions about music are their own and not necessarily those of the author.  
> 

When Dean was sixteen and Sam was twelve, Dean had walked in on him singing along to Enya on the radio. Merciful man as he is, Dean didn't disown him on the spot, but dedicated the rest of his life to trying to convince the dork that Seal was the demon spawn of the Backstreet Boys and Simon Paul and could he at _least_ try Foreigner if he wasn't interested in Kansas?

Twenty years later, Dean found Adele on Sam's iPod and declared him a lost cause.

Though he had failed to get his little brother to appreciate real music, Dean figured it would be a lot easier for a newly-minted human to appreciate good music if he was exposed to it properly. In fact, when Dean had been setting up his room, he'd organized his vinyls in order of what he would have Cas listen to when he finally flew his ass back to them. He even threw in a little Queen, because he figured Cas might like that weird shit and Freddie Mercury wasn't half bad once Dean had had a few drinks.

No such luck.

Somehow, by the time Sam and Dean had tracked down the freshly dehymenated human Cas, he had already begun forming his own opinions. Dean would walk into the library now and hear Lifehouse or, God forbid, fucking _Nickelback_ playing on the radio Dean had hooked up, and Cas bobbing his head to the beat while perusing the bookshelves. The shit had actually _wrinkled his nose_ when Dean suggested he put on a little AC/DC.

When Dean woke one morning to 'Drops of Jupiter' for the fourth fucking day in a row, he stormed into the library in his robe and found Sam and Cas chatting it up over the noise.

"Yeah, this one's my favorite album. It's got such interesting lyrics," Sam, the traitor, was saying, while Cas nodded with a smile and Kevin ignored everyone beneath his own set of headphones.

"You!" Dean accused, pointing a finger at his brother. The two turned around, Cas piping up with a 'good morning, Dean' that went ignored. "You're the one that ruined him!"

Sam pulled a bitchface. "What?"

"You got him listening to friggin' _indie rock,_ man!"

"Actually," Cas butted in, "I first heard this song in a bus station in Syracuse, and I wanted to hear the rest of it, so-"

"Does _no one_ appreciate the classics?!" Dean lamented.

Sam sighed, shooting Cas a look that might as well have said 'he gets like this, just humor him.' "Look, Dean, I've told you, I like Def Leppard and all, but it's also nice to listen to music from _this decade,_ you know? It's not like you don't know every word of that stupid Bonnie Tyler song."

"You shut your mouth." Dean scowled.

Cas glanced between the brothers for a few moments, looking lost. "I...don't understand. Is this music considered distasteful?"

"Yes," Dean answered, at the same time Sam said "No!"

Dean plucked Sam's iPod from the stupid speakers he'd set up, cutting Pat Monahan off in the middle of a na-na-na, and shoved it at Cas. "That's it, you're getting your education right now, come on." He took Cas's arm and dragged him down the hall toward the garage, practically feeling Sam's bitchface on the back of his neck.

"How you wanna start, Cas?" Dean asked after manhandling Cas into the Impala and handing him the giant box of cassettes he kept under the passenger seat. He'd planned on starting Cas off with his 'Dark Side of the Moon' record, which was like the classic rock starter kit, but Dean figured that overriding whatever part of Cas's brain that thought 'Away From The Sun' was a good song required more drastic measures. He turned the key in the ignition but didn't start the car, the radio whirring on and leaking the last bars of 'The Kids Are Alright.'

Cas dug his hands into the contents of the box, picking up tapes at random and carefully reading the labels before tossing them back. "Well, Sam did mention a 'deaf leopard', and-"

"Screw Sam," Dean said, scowling at his brother's influence. Cas's music tastes were going to _shit_ because of him. "Put in Zepplin IV."

Frowning, Cas located the correct tape and shoved it into the player carelessly enough to make Dean grit his teeth. "Watch it, Ferrigno! That tape's older than you are."

Cas rolled his eyes - something else he'd picked up from Sam - and leaned his head over the back of his seat. Dean's eyes flicked briefly to the stretch of his tan neck. "I sincerely doubt that, Dean." Sarcastic little shit.

'Black Dog' began to trickle through the speakers, Cas remaining silent through Dean's commentary. "This is my favorite bit;" "Wait, listen to the solo, it's awesome;" "Yeah, this one isn't as good, we can skip the rest."  When 'Stairway to Heaven' was fading out, Cas lifted his head with an interested expression. "I liked that last one," he relented.

"So does everyone else," Dean replied, ejecting and flipping the tape over with practiced ease.

"Does that make my opinion less valuable?"

Dean turned to look at him. He was still leaning back, but his head was tilted at that awkward - _cute_ \- angle and the confused stare was fixed on the radio.

Dean shrugged tearing his gaze away to the cassette player to turn down the volume on 'Misty Mountain Hop.' "Guess not. It's a good song. Just kind of an obvious one to like."

"What is your favorite?" Cas's eyes were on him now, intense and curious.

"Uh, either 'Ramble On' or 'Travelling Riverside Blues,' I can never decide which."

Cas nodded stoically. Dean figured he could take a conversation about eye boogers seriously. "If I listen to them, will you listen to mine?"

Dean turned toward him, making a face, as Cas waved Sam's iPod that was still in his possession. "What, _T_ _rain?_ I don't think so."

 "Your opinion is valuable, Dean," Cas threw back at him. "But only if you have actually given the song a chance."

"What are you talking about? You've woken me up with that crap all week!"

"I don't mean hear it, Dean, I mean actually _listen_. Sam believes-"

"Oh,  _Sam_ again! He needs different friends."

" _Sam believes_ \- that one of the ways to truly understand a person is to observe the things they hold the closest. I understand, Dean. You want to bond with me on a more intimate level by sharing your interests."

Dean shifted in his seat, plucking at a loose string in his jeans to distract himself from the heat spreading up his neck. "Jeez, you make it sound..." he trailed off. Maybe it didn't just  _sound._

"You have already accepted me into your home and into your life and I am grateful, Dean, so allow me to return the sentiment."

Dean looked up into Cas's massive baby blues, which widened themselves into an expression that, again, he must have gotten from  _freaking Sam._ Unfortunately, it was just as effective coming from Cas as it was from a seven-year-old who had used Dean's favorite tee shirt to mop up the milk he'd spilled from his Lucky Charms.

Dean relented.

"Well, I don't have 'Riverside Blues' on cassette, so just 'Ramble On' will do," he mumbled, motioning toward the box in Cas's lap. Cas looked at the mess of tapes blankly, one of his hands resting on top of 'Zepplin II.'

"Uh, it's-um," Dean steeled himself and slipped his hand under Cas's to grab the tape. Cas didn't even try to move, the bastard, and let Dean's sweaty palm slip on the plastic case twice before pulling it out.

Dean cleared his throat and loaded the tape with shaky fingers, ignoring Cas's eyes on him and only relaxing when the familiar guitar riff began to play

_Leaves are fallin' all around, time I was on my way / Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay_

Dean closed his eyes. He couldn't count the number of times he'd heard this song, back pressed aganst the ribbed seats of the Impala, Sam in the passenger seat or in the back with Dad at the wheel, singing along with the open road behind and before them.

_But now it's time for me to go, the autumn moon lights my way / For now I smell the rain, and with it, pain and it's headed my way_

They sat through the song, Cas in silence, Dean humming along quietly. He snuck peeks at Cas occasionally, watching him for signs of boredom or disapproval. There was none, though, just placid consideration and a tiny smile that Dean would never admit he couldn't take his eyes off of.

The song ended, of course, and Dean clicked off the player before it could skip to 'What Is And What Never Should Be'. He almost felt nervous, looking toward Cas for approval. It was a strangely vulnerable thing to give away your favorite song to someone; he could hate it, he could absolutely  _spit_ on it, and Dean felt ridiculous at how scared he was of that possiblity.

"I can see why you relate to that song, Dean," Cas said neutrally.

Well, what the fuck did  _that_ mean? Cas gazed at him, still with that damn little smile, something warm and earnest building behind it. It wasn't spit, at least.

"My turn," Cas continued, wriggling Sam's iPod into the jack - Dean really regretted letting Sam keep it - and scrolling with a finger.

Sure enough, as Cas sat back in the seat with a smile, the opening piano of 'Drops of Jupiter' trilled through the Impala's speakers.

Dean held back a grimace - because, well,  _Train_ \- and tried to fold himself into a neutral pose like Cas had.

 _Listen,_ Cas had said. This was 'bonding time' or whatever. And yeah, maybe that was Dean's intention all along. The least he could do was try.

_Now that she's back in the atmosphere with drops of jupiter in her hair / she acts like summer and walks like rain, reminds me that there's time to change_

"What the hell are 'drops of jupiter' anyway? Do they just throw these lines together just so they'll rhyme?"

"Dean."

"Sorry." Dean shook it off and  _tried._

_But tell me, did you sail across the sun / Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights are faded / And that Heaven is overrated_

Hey now, that was familiar. Dean supposed he was beginning to see why Cas was so obsessed.

_And tell me, did you fall for a shooting star? / One without a permanent scar and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there_

Okay, ouch. Dean felt that line. He glanced over to see Cas staring at him, intensely as always, and fought not to try to look disinterested. That's not what this was about.

The rest of the song was much of the same, the lyrics all about trying to keep a hold on someone who was constantly fucking off out of your reach. So maybe Dean could relate. A little.

_And are you lonely looking for yourself out there_

The song ended, and Dean wondered what it meant that Cas had been listening to it every morning, loud enough that he knew Dean could hear it, and was forcing it on him now. He turned nervously toward Cas's expectant look, heart in his throat and nothing to say.

"What do you want to listen to next?" Cas asked, to Dean's surprise.

They spent the next hour and a half taking turns working through Zepplin and Train albums, arguing about appropriate length of guitar solos and how many times you should be allowed to repeat the chorus. It was fun. They disagreed on most points - though Cas was surprisingly uncaring about Page's occult thing - but for once Dean felt like he was having an actual conversation with Cas. One that didn't involve the fate of the universe or either of them dying. They kept shifting closer and closer together on the bench as they talked, and as Cas explained the metaphysics actually involved if one wanted to 'call all angels', Dean was struck with the sudden urge - and not a new one - to kiss him.

Bonding time, indeed.

* * *

" _I'm_ driving, why are you still in control of the radio? What happened to the 'driver picks the music, passenger shuts his cakehole' rule?"

"The rule is, 'I'm the oldest, so shut up'."

They were headed up to Columbus Junction, Iowa, with rumors of a black-eyed man living under some train tracks. Dean was in the passenger seat because Sam wanted to leave the diner before Dean had finished his pie, and Dean had to finish his pie.

"Technically Cas is the oldest," Sam shot back, trying to smack Dean's hand away from the radio without crashing the car.

"Being an angel is cheating, three millenia as a junkless lightbulb doesn't count."

" _That's_  cheating."

"Thems the breaks."

"Oh my god. Cas, how old is your vessel?"

Cas squinted in thought from the backseat. "Thirty-nine, I believe"'

"Ha!" Sam crowed. "Oldest. Both your rules are moot, jerk."

Dean scowled and threw himself back into the seat, defeated.

"Your radio, Cas," Sam said cheerfully.

Cas's arm emerged from the backseat to fiddle with the dial.

_Well I know my baby, If I see her in the dark / I said I know my rider, If I see her in the dark_

Dean blinked in surprise as Cas pulled back, leaving 'Travelling Riverside Blues' to fill up the quiet.

Sam seemed surprised, too, and a little betrayed. "You sure you wanna hear this one, Cas?"

"Yes," Cas replied. "I haven't gotten to listen yet." He flicked his gaze to Dean and offered a secret, warm little smile and _Jesus fuck_ Dean was so far gone on this guy it wasn't even funny. He hid his face against the window as the song played through, the swelling warmth in his chest making it impossible not to smile.

By the second chorus Cas was humming along.

_I'm gonna take my rider by my side..._

**Author's Note:**

> [Talk to me on tumblr!](http://cuddleslutdean.tumblr.com/)
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